


Way down we go

by FreeShavocadoo



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: If you're looking for fluff this isn't it, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Questionable Relationship Dynamics, Reminiscing, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 14:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreeShavocadoo/pseuds/FreeShavocadoo
Summary: It had always been his greatest vice. Power. It was something they’d shared, something they both craved and moved towards like moths to a flame. Always one step away from each other and five steps behind true power, yet whenever one would move closer the other would move further away. It was funny, really, that what had brought them together all of those years ago served only to separate them now.Based on the song "Way down we go", by Kaleo.





	Way down we go

_Father tell me, do we get what we deserve?_ _  
Oh, we get what we deserve._

It had always been his greatest vice. Power. It was something they’d shared, something they both craved and moved towards like moths to a flame. Always one step away from each other and five steps behind true power, yet whenever one would move closer the other would move further away. It was funny, really, that what had brought them together all of those years ago served only to separate them now. The pursuit of it had driven them both to the precipice of greatness and insanity, infamy and legend. They’d both lost things, though some losses hurt more than others. For Albus, power was the end point. To Grindelwald, it was the means to an end. The deathly hallows had served as a reminder of the poison that was power and yet they both, in their naivety, assumed themselves above it. Why wouldn’t they? If people insist upon telling you that you are special and above others, eventually you will believe it to be true and seek some validation for this separation.

He doesn’t think he’d ever be able to explain it to anybody anyway, he wouldn’t be able to find the words to describe the man. Gellert Grindelwald was someone that everyone had an opinion on, that everyone knew of. The Gellert Grindelwald with twinkling mismatched eyes and an aristocratic sloping smile wasn’t the man they associated with that name, but a monster who was seeking to destroy the world everyone knew. To be considered naïve was expected. Albus knew better than anyone the allure that surrounded a man with such tremendous power and ability, with a silver tongue and iron resolve. He’d break before he’d bend, something people seemed to forget. The boy that had found him at a time where he’d wanted nothing more than to escape the life everyone else had forged for him was long gone, leaving a man who lived shrouded in darkness. Albus has his fair share of blood on his hands, he’s also not exactly an innocent bystander. “For the greater good,” they’d both said.

He wonders. What is the greater good to Grindelwald now? He doubts the greater good has him in it, anymore.

 

_And way down we go,_   
_Way down we go_   
_Say way down we go,_   
_Way down we go_

All of those years ago Grindelwald had been seeking an equal. He’d left his mark on Durmstrang, literally and figuratively. He’d found none worthy of his praise or partnership in that time, frustrated with the lack of challenge in his life. Until Albus Dumbledore. His eagerness to prove himself had been endearing, his attempts to leave a family that tied him down more-so. Grindelwald has assumed he’d found a kindred spirit of sorts, or at the very least a partner for his future endeavours. Whilst his soft-spoken nature and rather gentle soul made Grindelwald wonder if he’d ever be suitable for anything great, for everything he lacked in that department he made up in resolve and competitiveness. The same way Grindelwald had felt he’d long surpassed the need to stay at Durmstrang, Dumbledore felt he was being confined to a space that would slowly drive him mad. In Grindelwald’s opinion, all of those who are great will inevitably drive themselves mad, achieve greatness or die trying.

Of course someone who had lost so much at a young age would be staring at him with their eyes but not truly seeing him. For all of the positive qualities Albus could conjure out of the air for Gellert, it was power that drew them together. His abilities, his charm, his persuasion. It was all part of the plan. What Albus saw beyond that was somewhat of a mystery to Grindelwald, obscured by his goals and ambitions, too far in to back out now over a man with sparkling blue eyes and a tortured soul. Their mutual interest served more as mutual self-destruction, a dream at the ripe and impressionable age at seventeen had left Grindelwald immersed in his role as the leader and the revolutionary and Albus as the opposition, forever followed but always alone. It seemed to be the last thing they had in common.

There were few whom had left imprints on Gellert Grindelwald’s life, and none would cast a shadow as large as Albus Dumbledore’s.

 

_You let your feet run wild_   
_Time has come as we all oh, go down_   
_Yeah but for the fall oh, my_   
_Do you dare to look him right in the eyes?_

They’d held hands, palms bloody, vowing never to duel one another. Something that seems so absurd now, so long ago that it’s barely flicker, as if the entire thing were imagination and not reality. Albus is sure he can still see the shift in Gellert’s mismatched eyes, the way he stared uncertainly only for a mere second before the arrogant and aloof expression had returned. Albus does suppose there is some irony in his floral statements about love being pivotal to all, shared on summers afternoons in Godric’s hollow under a willow tree, staring into impassioned eyes. Did he ever love Gellert? Did Gellert ever love him? Perhaps men burdened by such calamitous urges for power with such a penchant for grief following them could never truly love anyway. He’s certain, though, that when his palm was pressed against Gellert’s that they had surpassed such labels anyway. Yes, he was blind to the man’s darker nature because he was enticed to his power, charm and like-mindedness. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware he was stepping over a line he’d never cross back from when he’d entertained this man’s ideas, regardless of how many times he’d stare at a picture of Ariana and tell her that he’d meant no harm.

For the greater good.

That was a life full of harm. That was Albus’ second vice. Long-sightedness. He couldn’t see or value what was in front of him, it was the big picture he was focused on seeing and protecting. It was his weakness for love and stories that blurred the edges for him, making him convince himself that a future with a boy who’d been charming at seventeen and deadly at eighteen was inevitable even amongst the dissent Gellert harboured wherever he went. The same way nothing had seemed good for Albus until he’d almost lost it all, Gellert was never happy with what he’d had but was more content to chase what he assumed he’d always wanted. His instincts had been clouded by the very concept he’d deemed the saving grace of almost all in the world.

Love.

 

 _Cause they will run you down, down till the dark,_  
_Yes and they will run you down, down till you fall_  
 _And they will run you down, down till you go,_  
 _Yeah so you can't crawl no more_

He can hear them sometimes, his followers, talking about his reluctance to take Britain for his own. Sometimes he wonders himself why he doesn’t. To just show up on Albus Dumbledore’s doorstep and see what is left of the man he abandoned all those years ago, parentless and then absent his sister. He knows it must torture Albus, to think of Ariana, especially since he assumes it may have been his spell that killed his younger sister. Perhaps his reluctance to seek Gellert out is because he thinks it may have been him that had done it, that Gellert will confirm the thing that has been hanging over this man’s head for too long. Offered the minister for magic job, countless other titles, yet weighed down by a family he would abandon for a boy he’d known for a few months in summer. Perhaps Gellert entertains the notion of asking him, asking him one final time if he’ll leave with him. That he’s always had a place by Gellert’s side where he belongs, has always belonged.

Memories of inexperienced and hurried kisses under a willow tree seem to haunt Gellert’s pensieve and he ponders the thought of Albert pouring over the same memories, if they make him feel longing or disgust. He wishes he knew what they made him feel, the pit in his stomach too heavy to tell. The memory of pressing his palm against Albus’, staring intently with the knowledge that this man cannot challenge me, his equal, by his own doing. This man has chosen to avoid getting in my way. Is it this that stills Albus’ hand? Gellert isn’t so sure. He’s always been far more capable than anyone gives him credit for, which is an impressive feat in of itself. His is the only name that nearly rivals Grindelwald’s in notoriety, a fact that would’ve delighted them both many years ago.

He clasps his fingers around the small silver necklace, allowing himself a mere moment to reminisce.

The old must die to make way for the new, after all.

_And way down we go,_  
_Way down we go_  
 _Say way down we go,_  
 _'Cause they will run you down, down till you fall_  
 _Way down we go._

They say it’s the greatest duel the wizarding world has ever seen, from what Albus has bothered to listen to. The only thing he can see in his head are a pair of eyes, one a startlingly silver blue and the other a brown deep enough to drown in. He swears that he can see the slight ghost of a smile on Grindelwald’s lips before he hits the floor, the same smile that used to make Albus rush to the willow tree every morning in summer with armfuls of books, hopes and dreams. The way all of the glorious and insane shows of wizardry are accompanied by a joy that Albus doesn’t expect to reflect in Gellert’s eyes, nor to creep up his own throat. It’s almost as though they both know that this is the only way they can truly live. Not as equals, but both always in pursuit. They were bound to one another the moment they excelled. He hears him, when the aurors drag him upwards from the floor, covered in injuries yet somehow looking exactly as he had at seventeen. Cocksure, arrogant and of the belief that nobody but Albus was worth his time, say, “for the greater good.”

As if he expected this would happen, as though this is the final test to prove one of them not as an equal, but the true power.

It always comes back to power.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes well, this 'pair' are questionable at best. But I wanted to try something that would get a glimpse into their dynamic without really going into explicit detail. Feedback appreciated!


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